


Blue Dreams

by watanuki_sama



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: 3x19, F/M, Gen, It Makes Sense In Context, It's all a dream, Suicide, attempted suicide, episode AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-28
Updated: 2013-02-28
Packaged: 2017-12-03 21:12:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/702692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watanuki_sama/pseuds/watanuki_sama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A part of him wants what he's being offered, and the dream doesn't let go so easily.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blue Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted 06/24/2011 on ff.net under the penname 'EFAW'.

Will braces himself against the dash as the car flies through the guardrail and over the edge of the cliff, and he's not ashamed to admit he screams.

But they never hit bottom, because now they're in the lab. Will surges upward, gasping, a scream dying in his throat as he realizes he's no longer trapped in the dream world but is in the _real_ world, and there's an interesting mix of relief and sadness that accompany that realization.

"Will, come on!" Magnus shouts. She's already out of her tank and halfway to the stairs. He gives his head a brief shake and scrambles to his feet.

The moment he's on upright, not even out of the tank yet, something grabs his heart and _squeezes_. He stumbles, cracking his shins painfully against the hard plastic side of the tank, but he barely notices that, clutching at his chest. In the past year, he's been induced into cardiac arrest, brought back to life, electrocuted to death, and revived again. Add to that everything else that's happened to him since taking this crazy job, plus the drugs the evil scientists were giving, plus the stress of driving off a cliff (even if only mentally) and it appears his heart is giving him the metaphorical finger and saying _Screw you, buddy, I'm done with this._

"Mag…nus!" he gasps out, collapsing to his knees. He sees her turn, and he sees the worry on her face as she changes direction and returns to his side. The pain is spreading through his chest and torso, and he's finding it hard to breathe.

"Will, what's wrong?" she cries, and her voice sounds strangely fuzzy to his ears. He reaches out, clutching her arm hard enough to bruise.

Footsteps sound on the metal steps as his vision greys; her head turns. He clutches at her arm a little tighter, trying to tell her to get away without words, because all his air is needed for increasingly difficult breaths. _You can come back for me. Don't get caught by the crazy scientists again._

But he knows she'll never leave him. She'll stay by his side and fight tooth and nail to keep him safe, even if it means she'll be captured once again as well, and he wants to cry. He never wanted her to sacrifice herself for him. He's pretty sure he's not worth it.

With determination, he releases her arm and pushes feebly at her arm, his vision flickering in and out. The small motion is enough to send him reeling, and he collapses back into the tank, on his side. His next desperate gasp for air is full of water. He chokes, thrashes.

Hands pull him out, not just Magnus's but other, familiar hands, and right before he blacks out he thanks god that Kate and Henry are there. They'll get Magnus out. It'll be fine.

Then his heart is squeezed again, and his vision disappears.

**XXXX**

Will has been in too many hospitals in his life to not recognize that he's in one now. He thinks that's a good thing. If he's in a hospital, then Magnus and the others must have gotten him out of the crazy lab. At least his heart doesn't feel like it's being squeezed anymore.

He blinks his eyes open and stares at the ceiling. Then he turns his head because he knows she'll be there.

She is, but instead of dark hair and ageless eyes, there's dark blond hair over teary blue eyes and a very pregnant belly. Will feels the ground drop out from under him, and he swallows.

No. No, he was supposed to have left this. The dream was supposed to end with a cliff side plunge. This can't be happening.

"Abby?" he croaks, hoping against hope this is a hallucination, or some sort of horrible mirage.

But she looks up, eyes widening, and lurches forward to grab his hand. "Will? Oh thank god, Will, you're alright!"

Alright is a relative term, because this isn't real and he doesn't feel alright at all. He stares at her, hoping some part of this will make sense. He was supposed to wake up. He's not supposed to be here anymore.

Abby starts to stand. "Will, are you alright? Do you want me to get the doctor?"

He struggles to sit up. Off to his left, a heart monitor starts beeping wildly. "I have to get out of here. I have to go back."

"Will, what-"

"You're not real!"

He makes the mistake of looking at her. Abby's face crumples the way it did in the driveway when they were arguing, despair and fear sharing equal ground, and her hands clutch protectively around her swollen belly.

"Will, please…"

She sounds like she's about to cry. He wants to cry too. "I'm sorry, I have to go, I have to-"

"Will!" She reaches out, grabs his chin with one hand, grabs one flailing arm with the other. He pauses, not wanting to hurt her in his mad dash for freedom. "Will, listen to me. This… _this_ , is real. Right here. With me. I love you." She presses his hand against her belly, and he feels the baby kick. "You and me and the baby. We can be happy together. We deserve to be happy, don't we?"

She presses her forehead against his, blinking back tears, and all he can do is sit there dumbly. It doesn't seem so urgent anymore. He has a baby on the way. He has to be careful with the baby.

"Will…don't you want just a normal life? Can't we be happy this way?"

At this point he's supposed to say no, storm off, and find some easy (and, preferably, painless) way to kill himself to extract himself from this reality. But her words hit something inside of him, because there are times when he _does_ want a simple, quiet, normal life, and he knows that will never happen as long as he's with the Sanctuary. He loves the Sanctuary and everyone in it, but occasionally he just wants a safe, normal life, after he's been turned into a giant butt-ugly lizard or been kidnapped by the abnormal mafia or visited the goddamn _center of the world_.

A part of him wants what this dream world offers, so he doesn't immediately say no.

That's all it takes.

"Will," Abby says gently, her eyes shiny with tears. "Stay with me."

He wants this life. He _wants_ to stay here.

He closes his eyes and has to swallow around a lump in his throat when he whispers, "Okay."

**XXXX**

Abby is quiet and patient and gentle when they go home, saying she understands and doesn't mind giving him some space. He locks himself in his bedroom while she goes downstairs, most likely to bake something.

Will looks at the papers on the desk, running his fingers over the small blue symbols he'd drawn, over and over and over again.

He ought to get out of here. He ought to get back to Magnus and the others.

But if he listens closely, he can hear Abby singing downstairs, and he thinks that, surely, it couldn't hurt anything if he stays for a _little_ while, right?

What's the harm in being normal for a few days?

**XXXX**

Will takes time off work. He's not a real heart surgeon, and if he tries to do surgery, he'll probably kill the patient, because that's the way his luck runs. And killing someone, even if they only exist in a dream, would suck beyond belief.

Instead, he goes shopping with Abby, pushing the cart and debating over produce. He cooks dinner with her in the evening, though his part of the job is more along the lines of stirring the sauce and setting the table.

He takes down Magnus's paintings, leaving tiny holes that he swears he'll spackle over sometime this week. At Abby's insistence, he puts the paintings out front by the garbage cans. (A few hours later he goes out and retrieves them, hiding them in the shed out back. They don't mean anything in this world, but he can't let them go.)

He walks the dog, assiduously avoiding Magnus's front yard.

In the morning he goes jogging.

He reads the paper. The day after he's released from the hospital, there's a small, two-inch article about a woman who ran her car off the road and over a cliff. There's a tiny, blurry photo accompanying the article. Will stares at the black-and-white image for a long time before turning the page.

He drives Abby to the mall. Since they want to be surprised, they don't know if the baby is going to be a boy or girl, so he helps her pick out clothes in gender-neutral greens and yellows and reds.

When it's sunny, he mows the lawn.

And every night before bed, he leans over, and he kisses Abby on the cheek, and he says, "Good night, honey." And she says it back.

He lives a disgustingly normal life, and he's happy. Honest to god happy. He's not worrying about anything more than getting everything on the grocery lists, he's not afraid for his life, he's not on some terrifyingly exciting chase. He's just…normal, and it's almost easy to push away the urgency and the feeling of wrongness.

After a while, he doesn't even remember why he was so upset. He feels bad about his neighbor, of course, because suicide is such a sad way to go, and when DA John Druitt comes by the pack up the house across the street, Will goes over and offers his condolences. But he doesn't think too much about it.

This is his life. It's a good life, and he's only been here a week.

He has a baby on the way and his mom is flying in soon and he's happy.

There's nothing wrong here.

**XXXX**

He's humming when he climbs in the car, grocery list in hand. Strapping in, he checks in the rearview mirror, and the humming abruptly ceases as a small curse leaves his mouth. Throwing the seatbelt off, he slams open the door and stomps to the trunk.

"You little-!" The furry white cat blinks at him, and he gingerly reaches out, grabbing it around the middle. He curses again when the cat twists in what he's _sure_ is an anatomically impossible direction and scratches him, and he almost drops the damn thing.

"Blasted little bugger," he grumbles as he stomps across the street, ready to pound on that front door and snap annoyed barbs at the crazy painter-cat lady.

But no one answers his pounding, and after a moment he remembers why.

_They're standing in the rain, and he's getting soaked. He's annoyed and upset and he wants to go home, but the enigmatic lady in the wide hat and dark trench coat is still talking._

_"As I see it, you have two choices. You can go back to a life where you're unheard, unappreciated…or…you could squarely seek the truth you've been seeking since you were a child."_

The memory flashes past, almost too quick to follow, a vision covered in blue spirals. He collapses to the stoop.

_Henry scowls, tossing the game controller to the ground. "I swear, you cheated. Cheater. You owe me a beer." But he's laughing while he says it, and he doesn't seem upset at all._

_Kate grins, twirling Henry's new weapon on her finger. "Hey Will, wanna come test this out with me?"_

_"Hey, Biggie, need any help?" The Big guy just grunts, pointing to a box._

_Magnus smiles, eyes dancing, and shakes a finger. Her tone is fond when she says, "Cheeky monkey."_

It's like a bucket of ice water has been dumped on him. In a moment, the cheerful complacency is gone, and Will remembers the car ride over the cliff and Henry and Kate and Magnus, god, how could he have forgotten _Magnus_?

The cat meows, and he absently tucks it more securely in his arms. For once, it doesn't scratch him. He blinks down at it.

"What's happening to me?"

The dream. It's coming back now. This is a dream. This, _all_ of this, is a dream. He'd been getting drawn in, living the part of a happy, devoted husband, but it's not _real_. None of it is real.

He knows that, and yet, his real memories are slippery, hard to grasp. It's like the dream is trying to erase his old life so he won't even know it exists. So he'll stay in this world forever.

He shudders and looks down at the cat. Magnus's cat. He remembers that now. She was Helen Druitt in this world, but she's _Helen Magnus_ , head of the Sanctuary Network.

How could he forget?

"Kate," he murmurs, petting the soft white fur. "I'm calling you Kate. Don't let me forget again, alright?"

The cat purrs up at him, and he woodenly stands and goes back home. He feels numb, disassociated, and that sense of wrongness he'd been ignoring for the past week comes upon him again. None of the urgency, not yet, but he's sure that'll come too.

It's like he's wearing the wrong clothes, only instead of a shirt and pants, it's the _world_ he's put on wrong.

Abby gives him a funny look when he comes inside with the cat, but he says he feels sorry for the little thing and she leaves it at that. She gives him an even odder look when he calls their dog 'Henry', but she's been giving him a lot of leeway this past week. Ever since Magnus…

Ever since _he_ …

How could he have forgotten?

Will gives Abby an absentminded peck on the cheek, promises to get the groceries in a little while, and goes upstairs, Kate-the-cat still cradled in his arms. Dumping the animal on the bed, he rummages around in his desk for those papers.

Blue spirals and waves, over and over and over again…

He'd thought it wouldn't hurt anything to stay here a few days. What could it hurt if he was normal for a little while, enjoying the things he's never really experienced before?

Except obviously there's something very wrong with staying here, even for a few days. The longer he's in the dream, the more he seems to be forgetting his life. His real life, not this made-up Hallmark version.

If he stays here too long, he'll probably forget everything. He'll be stuck.

His fingers trace over the blue waves and spirals.

He needs to get out of here.

**XXXX**

When he comes back with groceries, Abby tells him she's going out with a friend for a little while, and will he be okay on his own? Another time and another place, he'd probably get upset with her mother-henning, but he just smiles and says he'll be fine. She's been worried this past week, despite his previous cheerfulness, and now he knows why. Now he _remembers_ why. She's tried to hide the emotion (and honestly, up until this moment, Will hasn't really been paying attention), but now that Will is constantly reminding himself of his _true_ vocation, he can see the signs.

His lie seems to work, though, because she beams at him and waddles out the door. He starts putting groceries away, listening to the car start and pull out the driveway.

He bought two things at the grocery store that weren't on Abby's list. Once everything else is put away and he's sure Abby isn't coming back, he pulls out the bottle of sleeping pills and the orange juice. He has to search for the blender (a few days ago he would have assumed he didn't know where it was because he's never in the kitchen, but now he realizes it's because none of this is real at all), but once he finds it he dumps the whole bottle of sleeping pills inside. It only takes a few minutes to grind all the pills to a fine powder. It takes a few more minutes to find a funnel, but eventually, he finds one in the junk drawer and pours the powdered pills into the juice carton.

Intellectually, he knows what he has to do. Magnus said they had to reject the dream world completely, remove themselves from this reality entirely to be free. He understands the reasoning, and he understands what he has to do.

The problem Will has is that he's never tried to kill himself. Ever. Oh, the thought crossed his mind, once or twice in his life -in his real life, not this stupidly happy version- but he's never actually, truly considered the action. He's always been too rational, with a strong sense of self-preservation. 'Good survival instincts,' he'd once been told. Honestly, the mere thought of taking his own life is rather revolting. If Magnus hadn't been the one driving that car last week, Will is pretty sure he wouldn't have been able to go through with it.

But he _has_ to reject the dream world completely to wake up in the real world. It seems to have worked for her -at least, she hasn't shown up here again- and the longer he stays here, the less will he'll have to try and escape on his own.

He has to do it now, before the dream steals his memories and he gets complacent again.

God, he wishes Magnus was here with him. She's always so good at leading him in the right direction when he thinks he can't do something. He'd probably be able to kill himself with no problem if she were here leading him.

With all the powder in the carton, he screws on the lid and gives the juice a good, thorough shaking, keeping an eye on the driveway. Last time, the dream escalated when he or Magnus tried to escape. There's a very good possibility that Abby will come back because she forgot her purse or something, so he needs to be careful.

For the moment, she doesn't appear, and Will quickly grabs a glass and pours the deadly cocktail. It's a little bitterer than normal orange juice, but there's not a noticeable difference, which helps him to convince himself that this isn't really like killing himself at all. It's like taking a pill to wake up. A lot of pills to wake up. Not like suicide in the slightest.

He manages to down four glasses before he begins to feel full, and he forces another two glasses down after that. Then he plops down at the kitchen table, already feeling a little lightheaded and dizzy. Well, no wonder. He packed a whole bottle of pills onto one carton of juice. If they aren't working by now, then _something_ went wrong somewhere.

He blinks, swaying slightly as the room starts spinning. Oh, wow, fast-acting stuff, yeah. This is good. He drank half the carton, so theoretically he drank half the pills, which should be more than enough to kill himself in the dream world and wake him up in the real world. Good, that's good.

He lets out a breath, closing his eyes as the room's spinning increases. When that just makes his vertigo worse, he slumps forward and rests his head on the table.

Nice and painless. Just like he's going to sleep. It's hardly killing himself, anyway, if he's only waking up.

Just have to wake up…

**XXXX**

Like every other time, Will wakes up alert and active, jerking upright in the bed. It's another hospital, except Henry is the one at his side, and that makes him so unbelievably relieved.

Henry's already calling for Magnus, coming over with a helping hand. "Will, man, thank god, you're alright. We thought we lost you there. A few more days, and you probably wouldn't have come back, you know?"

"Right," Will says, not really understanding what Henry's saying but glad his friend is there. With Henry hovering, a hand on his back, Will swings his legs over the side of the bed and tries to stand.

He knows something is wrong when his legs collapse, and Henry has to catch him so he doesn't face-plant on the floor. Magnus woke up from the dream and sprinted halfway across the room with no trouble. He shouldn't have any trouble walking at all. And why is the room spinning…?

No. Oh, no.

"Henry?" Will whimpers, blinking at his friend, clutching at the other male's arm. The pills didn't work, or they weren't enough, because he can feel the dream trying to drag him back down, draw him back into Wonderland until he never wakes up.

No, no, _no!_ Not again, dammit! It was hard enough forcing himself to take the pills when they were mixed with orange juice. He doesn't think he can do it again. _I will not give in, I will not give in-_

Dark spots start to creep in at the edges of his vision.

Magnus rushes in, Kate on her heels, and they're both at his side in an instant. With difficulty, Will turns and focuses on Magnus, blinking stupidly, and her lips purse into thin lines. She grabs the sides of his head, staring him in the eye.

"Will, you have to reject it," she commands, because she's Magnus and Magnus knows everything and can apparently read minds. He tries to nod, tries to do what she says, because she's using her Boss voice and that's not a voice to disobey. But his head feels so heavy and the dream is getting stronger again…

Something shakes him, almost violently, jarring him momentarily from the dream. He blinks again, clearing exactly two spots of darkness from his vision, and meets her gaze.

"Will, listen to me." He's trying, he is, but it's just so hard… "Will, if you don't wake up soon, your mind won't be able to handle the dichotomy. You have to get out of there before the dream drives you insane. Do you understand? Will? Will!"

He tries to answer, but his tongue feels so thick and the dream is so insistent…

He goes limp in their arms and falls into the dark depths.

**XXXX**

"Will! Oh god, Will!" He hears her sensible flats race across the floor, hears her pick up the phone, drop it, pick it up again. She sounds like she's crying as she dials.

"Hello? I need help. My husband, I think he swallowed sleeping pills. He's not responding to me and I don't know when he took them. Please, hurry!" The phone drops with a clatter and she's racing back to him, dropping down beside him. When did he fall out of the chair?

He shudders, cracking one eye open to peer blearily upward. Abby's face is fuzzy and shadowed, and tears are streaming down her face. He's immediately guilty, thought at the moment his thoughts are fuzzy and he can't remember what he did to upset her.

"Will? Can you hear me? Oh god, Will, I need you to look at me, honey. Please!"

He groans.

Then he rolls over and throws up, his body rejecting his earlier cocktail. Abby makes a sound of distress as he heaves, and he thinks she goes back to the phone because she's suddenly talking and crying in hysterical tones.

He retches three times, until there's nothing but bile. Letting out a shaky breath, he slumps to the floor. Abby's crying by his side once more, still talking, which is wrong, somehow. She shouldn't be here.

Kate pads in front of him, a little fluffy ball of white fur, and he stares. Magnus. Magnus said he has to reject the dream, so he took the pills, and now he remembers, only… There's still enough chemical in his system to try and drag him under once more, but he knows it's not enough to break him free. He threw too much of it up.

He didn't do it right and they're going to save him, and he can't do anything about it.

He's only half-conscious when the ambulance comes screaming up the driveway.

Thankfully, he passes out a moment later, his wife's hysterical cries ringing in his ears.

**XXXX**

Another heart monitor wakes him. Will can hear Abby in the hall, murmuring softly to the doctor.

He rubs his face with his hands and tries not to cry.

**XXXX**

They keep him overnight and perform a battery of tests and assessments. Will isn't surprised, and takes the tests without fighting. They're the same tests he himself has given to patients, and while it's a little strange to be on the receiving end, at least he knows what to say. He's not going to allow himself to be committed. He's already trapped inside his own mind -he doesn't need to make this any harder.

Abby stays by his side every moment she can. She keeps crying, and Will keeps feeling guilty. She's not real, not in truth, but every time he sees her tears, he wants to apologize.

Only, if he apologizes for trying to escape the dream, then he might get sucked in again, and this time he's determined to escape. He won't let himself be drawn in again.

So he submits to the tests and he lies when he has to, and they eventually release him with a prescription for antidepressants and anti-anxiety meds, and an appointment to come back in a few days, "to talk about your disassociation with the world."

He doesn't say anything on the way home. Abby tries to start a conversation, but he just stares out the window, and eventually, she stops talking.

This would be so much easier if Magnus were here…

**XXXX**

"You need to wake up, man. Come on, please. You can't stay there anymore."

Will blinks, not needing his glasses to recognize the scruffy, shaggy-haired male standing beside his bed. Henry's face is shadowed, but there's despair in his voice.

"Please, Will. We don't know how much longer we can keep you stable, and some bad shit is going down here."

Henry leans down, lowering his voice. "I know you can do this. Just fight back and get out of there. Please. I can't…I can't lose you too."

He reaches out, like he's going to take Will's hand.

Will blinks, and it's no longer Henry from Sanctuary bending over him, but Henry-the-dog watching him, front paws on the bedspread.

Will exhales softly and shuffles away from the edge, a little closer to Abby. "Come on, boy," he murmurs, even though the dog's not supposed to be on the furniture.

Henry's weight and warmth isn't as comforting as he'd hoped it would be.

**XXXX**

Abby stands at the sink, singing softly along with the radio as she loads the dishwasher. Will has been banished to the kitchen table, nursing the same cup of coffee for the past hour. He thinks that Abby isn't going to let him out of her sight for a while, which will make what he has to do that much harder.

Every so often she turns and looks at him, her face tight with worry. Will hopes all this stress isn't doing any harm to the baby.

The baby's not real. None of this is real. He has to keep reminding himself.

It's getting more difficult with each passing moment.

Will avoids looking at his wife, staring down at the table and absently drawing spirals on a napkin. The more he worries about Abby and the baby, the deeper he gets sucked in. He has to pull back.

The doorbell rings, and Abby glances over. "Will, honey, can you get that? I'm a little tied up." She holds up wet and soapy hands as evidence.

"Sure," he replies listlessly, abandoning his cold coffee and going to the front door. Without bothering the check outside, he swings open the door.

It's like a slap in the face, because he intimately recognizes the woman on the doorstep, but he never, never expected to see her here.

Kayla Zimmerman smiles, leans in and presses a kiss to his cheek. "Hi, honey. How are you?"

Will's throat feels uncomfortably tight. "Mom?"

She picks up the suitcase at her side and brushes past him. "Where's Abby? Not doing something too strenuous, I hope. I remember when I was pregnant with you, oh, I was so eager to do everything my doctor warned me against."

"Mom."

She's just like he remembered. Oh, she has a few more grey hairs streaking her blond locks, and there are a few more lines and wrinkles on her face, but she looks like he remembered, just aged a little. Her voice is the same too, a familiar hint of Irish lilt in her words. She even smells the same, a unique combination of coconuts and almonds from her specialty shampoo.

She sets the suitcase down in the front hall, stripping off her jacket. "And while we're on that subject, how is the baby? Everything is good, I hope."

"Mom…"

Something in his voice catches her attention, and her chatter pauses. She turns to look at him, and whatever she sees on his face makes her come and wrap him in a hug. "Will? What is it? What's wrong, honey?"

Will was eight years old when a monster killed his mother.

Now she's here.

Will hugs her back and breaks down into her shoulder.

**XXXX**

Escalation. That's all this is. Every time he or Magnus tried to escape the dream, the dream escalated, giving them more reason to stay. John Druitt showed up on Magnus's doorstep, Abby almost went into labor.

And now this.

His _mom_.

He _knows_ it's just escalation. If he can put it behind him, focus on his memories and his goal, then it won't matter. He needs to avoid getting sucked in. His mom is dead, has been dead for almost twenty years.

_Mom_ …

Kate crawls into his lap as he sits at the top of the stairs, shamelessly eavesdropping on his mom and Abby talking in the living room.

"I'm worried about him, Kayla. At first he just seemed obsessed with the woman across the street; I almost thought he was having an affair." Abby chuckles self-deprecatingly. "God, I almost _wish_ it was just an affair."

He can't see them from this vantage, but he imagines his mom reaching over, taking Abby's hand in her own. "What do you mean?"

Abby takes a shuddery breath. "He's been acting odd, not like himself. I thought it had something to do with the baby; commitment issues or cold feet or something. But now…now I think it's something more serious."

Kayla is silent. Will can't imagine the kind of quietly encouraging face she's making. He doesn't have the experience or knowledge to imagine it.

"He's been having memory problems," Abby continues, and Will's heart clenches with guilt, because she's crying _again_. "He doesn't remember our honeymoon, or our first date, or even that disastrous dinner when he met my parents. He keeps…he keeps saying this world isn't _real_." Not quiet tears, either, but full on sobs he can hear all the way up here. "And the other day…the other day he tried to kill himself. I don't know what to do anymore." Abby's collapse into sobs. Will tries to picture his mom holding his wife, comforting her; he fails.

"I don't want to lose him, Kayla," Abby chokes out, voice muffled. "Not right before the baby. But I don't know…how am I supposed to help him? He won't _talk_ to me."

"Shh," his mom murmurs, soft and gentle, and this, Will can picture well enough, if a little blurred. "It's alright. We'll figure it out. We'll be okay."

Platitudes, but it seems to work. Abby sounds a little less heartbroken.

Without any reason, Will feels horribly, unaccountably guilty. Then he gets upset for feeling guilty.

He wishes Magnus were here.

"What am I supposed to do, Kate?" he whispers to the cat in his lap, stroking her soft fur. "How do I make this okay?"

The real Kate would say something snarky but well-meaning, and possibly even helpful.

This Kate just purrs and melts in his lap, and Will feels lost.

**XXXX**

"What are you doing?" his reflection asks that night.

Will has stopped being surprised by the dream world, or the small intrusions reality gives him. He hardly blinks at the mirror, just continues to brush his teeth.

His reflection gets angry. "Why are you still here? You know what you have to do. Make it right!"

Will spits, rinses. "It's not that simple," he explains, then glances covertly for Abby. She's worried enough as it is; she doesn't need to see him talking to himself.

"Yes it is!" his reflection snarls, leaning forward. Will is surprised at the anger in his reflection's eyes. "This isn't real. _None of it is real_. You know how to get out. So why don't you do it?"

The water is cool, and he washes his hands, avoiding his own accusing stare. "It's not that simple," he repeats, sounding lamer the second time around.

His opposite's voice is steely and harsh. "Admit it. You don't _want_ to leave. Here you have your mom and a perfect little wife and a baby on the way. You get to play house without worrying about the consequences. There's nothing tying you down, but you refuse to walk away because you _want_ this life." His refection sneers and shakes his head. "No wonder Magnus left without you. You're weak. She doesn't need you on her team."

The words are harsh, and hurt even more when he considers that he's been thinking the same thing, somewhere in his subconscious. He shakes his head. "No, that's not true. I'm not that weak."

"Then get out of here!" The mirror image slams his hands down, a force that Will _feels_ , rather than _sees_. "Get off your butt, walk away, and get _out_! Prove that you're not that weak! _Reject this world!_ "

"Will?" Abby knocks on the door, voice low but a little urgent. "Everything alright in there?"

He starts, staring at the mirror where his reflection is just that once more.

"Will? Honey? Answer me."

"Y-yeah," he croaks, trying and failing to sound normal. "Everything's fine. I'll be out in a minute."

She hovers at the door, then quietly pads to bed. Will stares at himself in the mirror, feeling shaken.

None of what his reflection said is exactly false.

**XXXX**

At night, his resolve is shaky enough, but in the daylight hours, there's a constant barrage to keep his attention. His mom spends time with him; his wife talks about the baby.

She sits him down on the couch and goes through photo albums with him. She makes it a game, pretending like they're reminiscing and it's not about his memory loss.

"And this is where we went on that vacation in Yellowstone. We sat in the car for an hour straight while the buffalo crossed the road."

"Here's that business trip to the Bahamas. God, you were _so_ sunburned when you came back. I slathered aloe on you for a week."

"This is our first apartment, when you were still in residency. It was so small, we could make food in the kitchen, turn around, and sit at the table without taking a single step. That place was great. So many memories."

Will stares at the pictures, the life of a stranger laid out on his lap, and feels himself being sucked in. He wants to remember laughing over Spaghetti-O's and a cheap wood table in a crappy apartment. Wants to remember nasty sunburns and aloe and buffalo, because it's so _normal_ and Will's never experienced that in his life, and he wants it so bad it hurts.

Kate crawls into his lap and digs her claws into his thigh, and he's glad for the momentary pain. It lessens the want, makes it a little easier to fight back.

He ends up retrieving Magnus's paintings from the shed and lugging them inside, screwing them into the wall under the watchful, worried eyes of the two women. (He never did end up spackling those holes.) He carefully matches blue painted lines to blue, until the waves and spirals make a continuous pattern, and for a moment, he feels grounded in reality. Not the dream, but in the real world.

For the first time in a while, as he stares at those continuous blue lines, he feels like he's finally thinking clearly.

So, of course, right then his wife goes into labor.

**XXXX**

Abby's labor is long and laborious and painfully drawn-out. Will sits by her side and tries not to wince as she squeezes his hand, hard enough for bones to creak. He knows what's happening. The dream is keeping his away from Magnus's paintings and his tenuous grip on reality. He tries not to worry, tries to tell himself that there's no _reason_ to worry. After all, neither Abby nor the baby are real.

But it's his _wife_ groaning and screaming and crying, and it's incredibly hard not to get drawn in.

Reality slips away as he clutches his wife's hand, speaking encouragement and urging her on, and everything else fades to the background.

Finally, nine hours of labor later, their baby is born. "It's a girl!" the doctor announces, and Will and Abby both cry together. Kayla comes in, hugs Will, pats Abby's hand, and they all watch the nurse come back, the baby wrapped in a soft pink blanket.

"Here you are," the nurse says, gently placing the baby in Abby's arms. Abby beams down, brushing the downy blonde hair crowning the girl's head. "She's beautiful…"

"She has good genes," Will says, earning a weary chuckle from his wife. Kayla says something about the gift shop and leaves the room, giving them a moment of privacy.

When Abby hands the baby over, Will cradles the tiny body in his hands and looks down in wonder. He created this, this tiny beautiful little life. He helped make this possible.

"What's her name?" the doctor asks.

"Ashley," Abby says, voice tired. "Ashley Rose Zimmerman."

_A platinum blonde in black leathers grins over her shoulder. "Come on, new guy, keep up. I can't save your ass forever."_

It's almost easy to ignore the flash of memory when he's staring down at his daughter.

**XXXX**

The paintings on the wall get barely a glance when they get home. He leads Abby upstairs, and with Kayla standing silent vigil in the doorway, they place Ashley in the center of her new crib. She continues sleeping, looking like a little cherub. She was born a few days early, but she's healthy for all that, six pounds and seven ounces of beautiful wonder.

He tucks Abby against his side, smiling peacefully. "I must say, Mrs. Zimmerman, you do good work."

She laughs wearily, playfully nudging him. "Thank you, Mr. Zimmerman. I couldn't have done it without your contribution."

They hold each other and stare at their daughter, the long day catching up to them, and finally Abby pulls away. "I'm going to bed. You coming?"

"I'll be there in a minute," he responds absently, leaning against the side of the crib. He hears his mom and Abby saying goodnight, hears Abby walk down the hall.

Reverently, he brushes a fingertip against Ashley's cheek. So small and fragile, and _his_ …

"You should be proud," his mom says softly from the doorway. Will turns, smiles at her. She comes over and gives him another hug, long and heartfelt.

"I am."

She pecks his forehead like she did when she was a child, then leans over to run gentle fingers across Ashley's pale gold hair. Then she, too, is gone, and Will is alone with his progeny. Who'd have thought he could ever have something like this? Who'd have thought he could ever _create_ something like this?

He smiles gently. "Ashley…"

_He stares at the two women, holding ice to his head. "So…she bags 'em and you tag 'em."_

_Ashley bounds into Henry's lab, grin stretching from ear to ear. "Henry! You got any new toys for me?"_

_She wipes at his chest with a towel, and he stares. His eyes follow her tongue when she licks her lips, and it feels like there's electricity crackling between them. All in all, the loose Nubbin seems entirely unimportant._

_"Here, I brought you this." She holds out a book, then scuffs her shoe on the floor. "Only, I know how boring it can be stuck in the infirmary, and you like mom's books, right? I thought maybe you'd like this one."_

_"Will, take care of my mom while I'm gone, okay? I'll come back and kick your ass if you don't."_

The memories flash by in rapid succession. Will blanches and reels back, gasping. Ashley…Ashley is…

Ashley isn't _his_ daughter. She's _Magnus's_ daughter, dead for almost two years now.

He forgot again. How could he forget?

His reflection sneers from the mirror over the dresser. " _Weak_ ," in a voice like knives. "You're so damn _weak_."

He whimpers, slumps against the wall.

He forgot again. He has to get out of here before he forgets completely.

He wishes Magnus was here.

**XXXX**

The blue spirals on Magnus's paintings seem to glow in the darkness. The entire house is asleep, with the exception of the dog and cat. Kate is perched on the arm of the couch, staring at him, and Henry is at his feet, head on his paws. Will feels a little better knowing they're there. It grounds him a little better.

The flare gun from the shed sits on his lap, a big ugly orange things he and Abby apparently take camping. He avoids looking at it for the moment, staring at the blue spirals on the wall. It's not a real gun, but he figures a flare through his head will be just as fatal as a bullet. It should be enough to wake him up. Can't come back from this like he can come back from pills.

"Do it," his reflection urges from the blank TV screen. "Do it now, or you're never going to."

Will swallows and lifts the flare gun with a shaky hand. He licks his lips and stares at the device. It's big and ugly and every instinct is screaming at him not to do this.

But if he tries another way, a slower way, then the dream will find a way to save him, and he'll never get out. He has to do it hard and fast and painfully or he'll never be free.

Trembling, he brings the gun to his lips, clamping his teeth down on hard plastic, and he wills his finger to pull the trigger.

The baby starts crying.

He flinches.

"Do it!" his reflection urges. "Ignore it and just pull the trigger!"

"Will?" his mom's voice says from the stairs, and it's unexpected and he jerks. He expected interference, knows the dream was going to try and interrupt him, but god, why his _mom_?

She comes down, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, and stares at him with wide eyes. "Will, don't do this. Please."

Will wrenches his gaze to the paintings on the wall. He blinks back tears, stares at the blue spirals, and thinks about Magnus.

His finger tightens on the trigger and everything explodes into light.

**XXXX**

Henry and Kate are by his bedside, but for a moment he doesn't recognize them. They look wrong.

They both lunge up, and Henry rushes out of the room. Now he recognizes them and they look okay, but he's not sure where he is. He looks around the room.

"Where's Abby?" he asks, and something passes over Kate's face, an emotion he can't identify. He frowns. "Kate? What's wrong? Where's Abby and my mom?"

Magnus bustles in before she can say anything, all cool efficiency and barely-veiled worry. Henry's right on her heels, wringing his hands and bouncing on his feet, unable to stay still even when he stops walking.

"Are you alright? How are you feeling? What do you remember?" Magnus shines a light in his eyes, lines tight around her mouth.

"Are you still sane?" Henry asks quietly, voicing the question Magnus really wants to ask.

Will stares helplessly between the three of them, feeling dizzy and disoriented and confused. He thinks about the first words out of his mouth, asking where his wife is.

He looks at Magnus and can't keep the tremble out of his voice.

_You have to get out of there before the dream drives you insane._

_Are you still sane?_

"…I don't know."

**Author's Note:**

> At the time this was written, Will's mom had not been named in canon, so I made one up for her.
> 
> In the episode, Helen names her cat 'Henry'. I didn't realize that till I rewatched the episode, after I originally posted the fic. Since Henry-the-cat doesn't really work the way I wrote it here (and I tried)...let's just say, once Helen left the story, the dream chance, and little boy cat Henry became little girl cat Kate. Yeah. That's what happened.


End file.
